Grant’s fury flattened and he shook his head. “Oh geez. As a father of girls, I can understand why Owen would be angry. No father wants to think of his daughter having sex.”

“But hitting a kid? Grant, you have to agree that’s taking it too far. He’s becoming unhinged.”

“Maybe I could talk to him, man to man. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“It’s too late for words. He plans to press charges against Ryan. He’s got a vendetta and wants to ruin his whole life; I can feel it. He’s going to put our son in jail, Grant!” I felt hysterics bubbling up.

“Are you sure you’re not misreading things? Mac and Owen are our friends—they would never do that.” Oh Grant, ever the optimist.

“Owen told me to get a lawyer for Ryan. This isn’t going to blow over. Mac’s not even speaking to me.”

Grant tossed off the bed covers and came to me, folding me into a hug. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll figure it out. We just need to know the facts. Is Aria saying that he—he raped her?”

“I don’t know what she’s saying. Aria won’t answer Ryan’s calls—even though I told him not to contact her—and Mac’s like the Great Wall of China. I have no idea what’s going on behind closed doors over there. I don’t know how to stop this from exploding.”

I stood in the middle of the room wrapped in my husband’s arms, and yet I felt so cold. I couldn’t stand the silence, but I had nothing left to say.

“I know how to stop it, Robin.”

“You do?” I was willing to entertain any idea at this point.

“It’d put a stop to Owen forever, though.”

Grant returned to the bed, and I shuffled behind him, sitting in the crook next to him. I’d never seen such broody darkness in Grant’s eyes before, but there it was, the hazel deepening into a pool of black.

“I don’t care, if it saves Ryan.”

“You know, of course, about my handy-dandy prescription pad.” I nodded, and Grant’s features tensed. He blinked, slowly. “Well, I can think of a dozen prescriptions that if consumed in high enough quantities could put a man his size down. I’m not saying we should . . . but we could.”

“No, we couldn’t . . . could we?”

“It wouldn’t be difficult. I could easily justify writing Ryan a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication. Something that’s known to trigger an adverse reaction when overdosed. Somehow it ends up in Owen’s food. Just sayin’.”

“We could go to jail if they traced it back to us.”

“And Ryan could go to jail if we don’t.”

It sounded so logical sitting here discussing it like we were chatting about dinner plans.